


Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore

by sansaswildlinglover



Series: Two idiots in love [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BUT I LOVE THEM, Canonical Character Death, Depression, F/M, Jon and Sansa are Cousins, Ugh these two are really stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-21 18:59:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaswildlinglover/pseuds/sansaswildlinglover
Summary: Jon returns to his childhood home for a wedding.*Changed the rating from T to M: note in the second chapter





	1. As my train rolls down the east coast

**Author's Note:**

> Work title and first two chapter titles from 'A drop in the ocean' - Ron Pope

"Is this seat taken, young man?" a loud voice croaked. 

Jon looked up from the photo album in his hands to a wrinkled woman with wispy white hair standing bent over him. He shook his head.

"You mind if I sit here?" she asked, making no effort to hide that she was trying to get a good look at the picture in his hand.

Jon held back a sigh. He couldn't say he was looking forward to spending an hour-long train ride with a nosy old woman, but he was too polite to say no. "Of course not," he told her, forcing what he thought was a friendly expression.

She sat down in the seat opposite him and asked: "Are you constipated, son?"

"Excuse me?"

"You were grimacing," she pointed out. "My late husband Alfred used to grimace like that when he was constipated. I have a remedy for that, a shot glass of olive oil, and you'll feel much better."

"Um, thanks, but, no, I'm not constipated." He shifted uncomfortably. 

"I'm Nan, by the way." 

"Jon," he muttered.

She sat back and peered at him. "You're not much of a talker, are you, Jon?"

He cleared his throat, opening his mouth, but failing to come up with something to say.

"It's alright, boy," she assured him. "My Alfred was never the verbose type either. He used to say he didn't need to be, 'cause I talked enough for the both of us."

Jon felt the corner of his mouth quirking up and tried to hide his chuckle with a cough. Nan ignored him, peering at the picture in his hand again, narrowing her beady eyes.

"She's pretty," she commented. "She your girlfriend?"

"No," he answered quickly.

"No," she repeated. "But I bet you wish she was."

"I, um," he tried, but she didn't give him a chance to finish a full word.

"Tell me about her!"

"Her name is Sansa," he said.

"And?"

"And what?" he asked.

"And what?" she mocked him. "Tell me everything! I love stories, and I can tell this is a good one!"

Jon rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the old woman's expectant face. There was definitely a story, but it didn't have a happy ending, at least not for him. But perhaps he'd been holding onto it for too long, never sharing the truth with anyone, not even his girlfriends,  which might have contributed to the reasons why they were now his exes.

Suddenly he was overwhelmed by the desire to tell her everything.

"We practically grew up together," he started.

Being raised by a single mother, Jon had spent most of his childhood at his Uncle Ned's house. Arya and the boys had felt more like siblings than cousins to him, but Sansa had always been different. She was a girly girl and she didn't like the wild games he played with her other siblings. Occasionally, she'd make him sit down for one of her dolls' tea parties or ask him to play a role in one of the stories she'd invented, but he never spent as much time with her as he did with the others.

"She was my first kiss. She was twelve, I was fourteen." 

She'd told him she liked it, he hadn't been able to put into words what it meant to him. They'd been too young to understand anyway. 

"Did you become sweethearts?" Nan wanted to know.

"No," he chuckled. "She just wanted to practise kissing, and she said I was the only one she could trust."

"You're an idiot."

"Probably, but I was just a boy, and far too shy to do anything about it."

They'd drifted apart soon after that. They went to different schools, had different friends and different hobbies, and with a house full of siblings and friends, there was always someone else around to hang out with. 

Nan was patiently waiting for more details about the story, but the look in her eyes was eager.

"We sort of reconnected when she was sixteen, I think," he continued. "She needed help with her calculus homework. She was a disaster at maths," he added fondly.

Those days had been torturous for him. They'd both dated other people by then, as far as it could be called dating, since they were both teenagers, but being around her had quickly reignited his crush. Remembering all the hours they spent cooped up in her bedroom still brought a smile to his face, even if  he always ended up feeling wistful after.

"So you tutored her?"

"I did," he confirmed. "She repaid me by putting in a good word for me with her friend's father. I was looking for a job to help pay for community college, you see."

"Yes, yes, and?" Nan encouraged him, nodding eagerly.

"She aced her exam, I got the job."

It had always been like that with them. They were just better together. Jon wished he wasn't the only one who could see that.

"But did you get together?" she asked.

He offered her a sad smile. "No, she met someone else."

In fact Jon had introduced her to that someone else.

He'd met Samwell Tarly at Castle Black Community College. Jon was taking the the med lab technician program, Sam wanted to be a nurse. Sam's father had thrown him out of the house for making that particular career choice. Like his uncle and cousins, Jon had inherited the Stark tendency to take in outcasts, so he'd brought his new friend home for Christmas.

Sam had a younger brother called Dickon, who'd defied his father and travelled all the way up North to spend Christmas time with his brother. Obviously, he'd been invited to come along. 

"So you missed your shot again?" Nan sounded disappointed in a genuinely sympathetic way, and it made him feel more kindly towards this quirky old busybody.

He shrugged. "I guess you could say that."

"What happened next?"

"After six months of dating the guy, she got pregnant."

Jon's hands had itched to whack Dickon's teeth out for knocking her up. He'd already been sporting a black eye, courtesy of Robb, when Jon found him sitting at the Stark kitchen table, eyes politely turned down. He'd been ready to give him a matching one, but Sansa had put a hand on his arm and had begged him not to.  _"Please,"_ she'd whispered.  _"It's my responsibility as well."_

Jon hadn't quite agreed to that, but he'd turned around and fled the house, torn between crying and punching his fist into a wall. 

Nan leaned forward, practically bent over the small table between the seats. "Are they still together?"

"No."

She raised her thin white eyebrows, eager for more details.

"Her father died," Jon whispered. "She was twenty, juggling the responsibilities of taking care of her siblings and mother and raising a child, drowning in her own grief. They parted as friends."

"And what did you do?" the old woman asked, almost breathless.

 _I made a series of increasingly stupid mistakes,_ he thought, but he wasn't about to share that with Nan. "She didn't want me there, so I left."

"You're an idiot," Nan repeated.

"You already told me that," he objected weakly. "It's been four years, and I only saw her once, at her brother's wedding."  _Where I repeated all of those mistakes._

"And now you're travelling back home again," Nan pointed out.

He frowned in confusion.

"I can tell you're Northern by your accent," she clarified.

She was right. He was travelling back home for another wedding.

"Is she still living up there?"

He nodded.

"Perhaps it's not too late," she said with a toothless grin.

Jon had strong doubts about that. 

***

Jon walked towards the oak front door, slowing down with every step. He'd missed this place terribly, it had been his home for most of his childhood, and yet, right now, he didn't want to be here.

He was a selfish bastard. He didn't want to be here, and if he had his way, he'd turn around before his finger touched the doorbell. But even being as selfish as he was, he couldn't bring himself to turn his back on his family now that they needed him. Weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions, but somehow they always ended up being more complicated than that.

It had been like that with Robb's wedding. It hadn't been three full years after Uncle Ned's accident, and the Stark family's grief had hung heavily over the weeks leading up to the event. Aunt Cat had been close to a nervous breakdown planning the wedding and dealing with Robb's future in-laws.

It was much the same this time around. While the family's loss wasn't as sharp and all-consuming as it once had been, it was still there, and he knew Ned's ghost would be present the day of the wedding. And even without all the emotions surrounding his absence , the Starks were still planning a wedding.

Jon had learned that some things just had a way of going horribly wrong in the weeks leading up to a wedding. In Robb's case, the worst of those had probably been Robb getting arrested for being drunk and disorderly at his bachelor party. Jon had managed to bail him out just in time for the ceremony.

Jon still blamed Robb's best friend Theon for the incident. Robb's offense hadn't been anything major, he'd just been loudly and obnoxiously declaring his love for Jeyne, challenging anyone who "disagreed" she was the most wonderful woman in the world to a fight.

Right now, Robb was stationed overseas, and he wouldn't be able to return home for his sister's wedding. On top of that, his very pregnant wife was living under his mother's roof, only adding to all of the stress. Arya had angrily informed him about all of this over the phone. 

The worst of it though, according to her was that she and Sansa were " _on the verge of a civil war". "I should lock her in a closet until the day of the wedding,"_ she'd fumed. He'd laughed at that. The Stark sisters loved each other deeply, but they didn't always like each other all that much.

 _"Gendry's been avoiding the house,"_ she'd told him.  _"And Harry's been... Harry."_

That was a surprisingly polite way for his cousin to express her opinion about Harrold Hardyng. She'd called him a little shit on several occasions and had grumbled that he wasn't fit to wipe Sansa's ass. 

 _"It will all work out,"_ he'd tried to reassure her, but she'd only huffed and said she had to go. 

Jon's family needed him, and he couldn't abandon them now, even if he'd been avoiding coming back here for years now. He pressed the doorbell and clenched his fists, resisting the urge to run. 

The door swung open and he looked into the face that had been haunting his dreams. Her red hair was a little darker and shorter than it had been, and her cheekbones had grown sharper, but her blue eyes lit up when she saw him.

For a moment that seemed to last forever they only stared at each other, but then she closed the distance between them and he dropped his bag to wrap his arms around her. She was soft and warm and she smelled of something sweet and flowery. His body relaxed, feeling incredibly light, but his heart was swelling inside his chest and his stomach flipped pleasantly. He pulled her closer, burying his nose in her hair.

Too soon, she pulled back, but she offered him her brightest smile. "Jon," she whispered. "You came."

"Of course I came," he muttered, his voice oddly strangled.

Jon had come home for a wedding, and it had only taken half a minute for him to realize that he was still desperately in love with the bride. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of exposition in this chapter, but I hope I left some details vague enough to keep you curious for more!
> 
> This will be 3 or 4 chapters.


	2. Dont take what you don't need from me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa talk, a long Sansa flashback, and Jon meets Harry...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the rating from T to M, not due to sexual content (there are a couple of references, but they're fairly mild). But as I was writing this second chapter, and spent some time inside Sansa's head, I started realizing that the way she experienced things and especially her emotional state in a flashback I've included might be a bit heavy/dark for a T rating.
> 
> In case you're wondering why everybody is living at the Stark house:  
> Jeyne is pregnant and doesn't want to be alone all the time while Robb is stationed overseas. He'll be back in time for the birth of their baby, but him needing leave for the baby is the reason why he can't make it home for Sansa's wedding  
> Arya is just there in the weeks leading up to the wedding  
> Sansa is living with her mother right now until she and Harry can buy a house as soon as the lease on his apartment has run out

There were at least a dozen people gathered in the Stark dining room, and the room was alive with the buzz of laughter and excited conversation. The dishes had been cleared away, and people had moved chairs to talk to each other. 

Ricky was colouring at the coffee table. Earlier, he'd climbed up into Jon's lap to show him the plush dinosaur Bran had given him for his birthday. He didn't remember his Uncle Jon, he'd been too young the last time he'd been here, but he seemed to have taken an immediate liking to him. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Jon talked to him in the same way he'd speak to an adult.

Sansa hadn't had a chance to talk to him yet. As soon as he'd released her after their hug on the doorstep, her siblings had come clambering down the hallway to claim his attention, and she'd been called away to help her mother in the kitchen. 

Just a couple of minutes ago, Jon had walked through the glass sliding doors to have a smoke on the back porch. She didn't want to draw too much attention by running out after him, but she'd have to go out now if she wanted a chance to get him alone tonight.

He was sitting on the steps to the garden, rubbing his beard with the heel of his hand. He was no longer wearing his curls long and loose, the way he had since he was sixteen. His hair was still long, but he'd pulled it back into a half bun. Sansa had always liked his curls, but she had to admit it was a good look on him.

She'd been standing there staring at him for a while when she felt a hand on her arm. "Coming through, Sansa," Jeyne warned her. "I need a bit of fresh air."

Reluctantly she stepped aside to let her through. Jeyne glanced up and followed the path of her eyes. Their eyes met and Jeyne gave her a look.

"He doesn't bite as far as I know," she told Sansa.

She could only offer her a thin smile, but a cheeky voice in the back of her head reminded her:  _only if you ask him to._

She shook her head to collect herself and watched Jeyne descend the steps, walking past Jon and all the way to the far end of the garden. She took a deep breath and stepped out, sitting down on the steps next to Jon.

She pulled her knees up to hug them to her body and risked a glance at him. His chin was resting on his folded hands, elbows braced on his knees, and he was looking at her, his dark eyes soft.

"Hi," she whispered.

The corner of his mouth curled up. "Hi."

She watched him light a new cigarette and tore her eyes away from his face before she reached the point she couldn't stop staring at him. They sat in silence for a while, and Sansa tried to figure out what to say to him.

"I owe you another apology," he sighed suddenly, turning his face to the sky to blow out some smoke. "I left you a second time. I was afraid you'd reject me again. It's a poor excuse, but it's the only one I have. Can you forgive me, Sansa?" he asked, meeting her gaze again.

She narrowed her eyes at him, resting her cheek on her knees. He had hurt her, twice, as he'd pointed out, but it had all been her fault anyway, so she couldn't exactly blame him. 

Four years ago, she'd broken his heart. She hadn't meant to, and it had been a tough decision, but she'd still hurt him and pushed him away. That hadn't been unforgivable though, and Jon was a kind and generous person. She believed he'd come to understand why she had to do it.

But then she'd used him again, just to chase away her loneliness and self-pity. They should have talked about it. She should have examined why she wanted to be in his arms again, why she couldn't resist smiling and touching him until she'd driven him over the edge.

He had let her, but he'd known, and that's why he'd crept out of that hotel room at first light. She understood that now. She'd been angry with him for abandoning her again for so long, but she only had herself to blame. 

She should be the one begging for forgiveness, but she wouldn't. She was too selfish for that. What she was about to do was proof enough of that. She pursed her lips and kept her head down until she felt brave enough to look at him again.

"I forgive you," she told him. "On one condition."

He raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something," she said. She bit her lip, averting her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. "With Daddy gone, and Robb away, I wanted to... I was wondering if... I would like you to give me away at my wedding, Jon."

He opened his mouth and closed it again. "Why don't you ask your mother? You'd make her very happy."

She nodded. "I know, but it's not traditional, and we'd probably start crying and be blubbering messes by the time we reach the altar, and it just, it would- it wouldn't feel the same."

He pursed his lips and took another drag of his cigarette.

"I know it's a lot to ask, especially since it's been so long since we saw each other," she admitted.  _Especially since we fucked at my brother's wedding the last time we saw each other,_ she added mentally. 

He turned to her, resting his bearded chin on his shoulder and offered her a half-smile and a tiny nod. "Alright," he said. "I'll do it."

She couldn't believe she'd done it again. She did her best to return his smile. "Thank you, Jon."

***

_Sansa braced her arms against the shower tiles and closed her eyes as the warm water washed over her. She'd been so tired lately, and she'd been so desperate to feel something, anything._

_What she was feeling now was overwhelming. It was all too much, and all too soon. She'd just broken up with Dickon a week ago. She couldn't deal with any of this right now._

_She couldn't even remember who'd made the first move. All she knew that was that for the first time in months, she hadn't felt tired and sad and empty._

_Ricky was with Jeyne, and Jon had offered to cook dinner for her._ _She'd had a couple glasses of wine and had been singing some silly song Jon claimed he didn't know, adding some dramatic arm gestures, when she stumbled into him, his strong arms catching her, and his warm embrace had felt so good._

_They'd kissed, and their hands had started roaming, but then he had stopped her. "No, Sansa," he'd objected. "You're drunk."_

_He'd made her drink a glass of water and then he'd held her as they lay on the couch. Sobering up had made a horrible feeling of dread sink into her stomach, and she'd been so desperate to chase it away._

_She'd climbed into his lap and begged him to make her feel good. He hadn't been able to refuse her this time._

_Jon had been attentive, thinking about her pleasure first, constantly checking what she wanted. Sansa hadn't realized until then how much she'd craved physical affection. After all, she hadn't slept with Dickon since a couple of weeks after her Dad had passed away, and that had been about seven months ago._

_He'd been gentle the first time, but his tenderness had nearly driven her to tears, so when he'd been ready again, she had begged him to be rough with her. He had, and it had made her feel alive again._

_Now Jon was asleep in her bed and she was in the shower, trying to wash away her guilt. She didn't truly regret what they'd done, but she felt ashamed that she'd given herself to him so eagerly after being such a bad girlfriend to Dickon for months._

_She hated herself for not thinking about Ricky tonight, not even once. She was a mother, she should be putting her son first, not taking the night off parenting to sleep with her cousin._

_Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, perhaps she would even be able to thank Jon for tonight, because it had been wonderful and he'd made her feel so good, if he hadn't whispered "I love you" into her ear right before falling asleep._

_His words had caused a whirlwind of emotions inside of her, and she couldn't deal with that right now. She'd tried to push them down again, lying perfectly still next to him as a storm raged inside of her._

_She'd had a crush on Jon when she was twelve. She'd even asked him to kiss her. She could still remember how his ears had turned red when she had told him she liked it._

_Later, when she was fifteen, her crush had been reignited, and after a couple of months, she'd finally been able to catch his attention. She was failing her calculus class, and Robb had told her Jon had always gotten good grades on the subject, so she'd asked him to tutor her._

_For months, she'd done everything she could think of to let him know she was interested, but he simply never responded to any of her advances. She took that to mean he didn't reciprocate her feelings, so eventually she'd given up and tried to move on._

_It turned out Jon just had horrible timing. If he had said those words to her during the first months she'd been dating Dickon, or even during her pregnancy, she might have chosen him._

_After all those years, she thought at least a hint of the feelings she'd developed for him still lingered. For a moment she wondered if that could be enough, but she quickly pushed that thought away. One word from him would have been more than enough back then, that was how strong those feelings had been, she knew that much._

_On top of that, Jon was her cousin, he'd always love her in a way, and he'd always look after her. Perhaps she would have let him fight for her, the way she hadn't allowed Dickon._

_All she'd known about Dickon in those early days was that his jawline made her stomach flutter and that the stories he told made her laugh. It hadn't been enough to make them last, even if she'd discovered a lot of other good things about him._

_But now she couldn't take any risks. She wasn't ready for a relationship of any kind, she wouldn't be ready to love and be loved again for a very long time. In her mind, Dickon and her had been over for months now, but that didn't mean she could love Jon the way he deserved._

_She'd barely had the energy to take care of herself, since Daddy's accident, it was one of the most important reasons why she'd decided to end her relationship with Dickon. She needed to put Ricky first, she'd done that when she had broken up with Dickon, and when she'd asked Jeyne to help her take care of the rest of her family._

_She'd do that same thing now, even if it meant sacrificing her own heart._

***

Jon was lying on his back only separated from the cold hard floor of the Stark living room by a thin rug. Ricky had asked what he did for a living, and when he tried to explain that his job was to help doctors, Ricky had announced that he was a doctor and that Jon had a grumkin in his belly he needed to remove.

He'd 'cut' Jon's stomach open with a plastic knife and was studying his work with a serious look on his face. He pulled his plush dinosaur 'out' of Jon's belly and made it roar. 

Jon let out a fake cry and pretended to faint, inciting Ricky to start pounding his little fists on his chest in an effort to resuscitate him. 

He turned his head to find Sansa looking at them with a soft expression on her face. There was tenderness and a hint of longing in it. He averted his eyes, offering Ricky a smile to distract himself. He'd seen that expression before, when she had been watching Robb and Jeyne at their wedding.

_"They look so happy," she sighed, leaning against the pillar behind Jon's back. "Do you think we'll ever have that?"_

_His lips parted in surprise when he looked at her. Her cheeks flushed red._

_"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean 'we' as in 'us'."_

_"I know that." He took a deep breath. "Sansa, listen, I wanted to apologize. I left when you needed me most. I thought it was the right thing to do, for the both of us, I really did. But I'm sorry."_

_She offered him a sad smile and shrugged. "I pushed you away, Jon. But it still hurt that you let me."_

"Uncle Harry!" Ricky exclaimed suddenly, turning away from Jon to dart across the room and jump into the arms of a tall, muscled man with sandy hair.

"Hey, champ!" the man greeted him. 

Jon pushed himself into a sitting position and then up to his feet. 

"What's your job, Uncle Harry?" Ricky asked.

"I sell cars, Rick," Harry answered. "Sleek and shiny cars that go really fast!" He whirled Ricky around and made a  _vroom vroom_ sound, making the little boy cackle with glee.

"Can I do sudgy on a car?" he asked Harry.

"Sudgy?"

"Sudgy!" Ricky confirmed. "Like Uncle Jon! He's a doctor."

For the first time, Harry seemed to notice the other man in the room. Jon walked forward to greet him. His eyes were very blue and he had fucking dimples.

"Are you another brother she hasn't mentioned yet?" he asked.

Jon chuckled despite himself. "No, I'm her cousin. And I'm afraid I'm not a doctor either, just a med lab technician."

Harry nodded vaguely, holding out his hand. "Harry Hardyng."

"Jon Snow," he answered, squeezing the offered hand a little harder than absolutely necessary. 

Arya shuffled into the living room, wearing an oversized sweatshirt over her pyjamas and her hair sticking up in all directions.

"Hey, Arry!" Harry called out.

'Fuck off!" she told him, picking her packet of cigarettes off the kitchen counter.

Jon bit his lip to stifle a chuckle.

"Auntie Arya!" Sansa exclaimed. "Language!"

Sansa crossed the room to come and stand beside Harry, and Jon decided that was his cue to leave. He didn't want to witness them acting like a happy little family, so he followed Arya out onto the porch. 

She offered him a cigarette and he took it gratefully. He closed his eyes as he took his first drag, leaning against the door frame. His mind drifted back to the memory he'd relived earlier. 

Jon wished he could forget about the day of Robb's wedding, and especially what had happened in Sansa's hotel room, but he could still see her in her purple bridesmaid dress, whispering in his ear: _"I can't stop thinking about that night."_

He opened his eyes to find Arya watching the people inside through the glass sliding doors. The three of them were sat on the floor, Sansa's legs neatly folded under her, Harry and Ricky on their knees as they played with the boy's toy cars. 

"He's good with Ricky," he commented. 

"He is," Arya conceded. "It's the best thing about him. But he's no good for her. I give it three months before he cheats on her again."

Rage bubbled up in his chest.  _"Again?"_ he forced out through gritted teeth, seeing red.

"He denied it, of course," she answered, her voice trembling. He glanced down at her. Her fists were balled so tightly her knuckles turned white and her arms were shaking.

"She wanted to believe him," she continued. "And you know San has always been good at talking herself into believing things that aren't real."

"Fucking asshole," he muttered under his breath.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Arya said with a knowing smirk.

He blinked and jerked his head, which was perhaps a bit much, and mumbled: "What are you talking about?"

She punched his arm. "Don't play dumb with me, Jon," she warned him. "This is your last shot. If you mess up this time, you can't come crawling back to her once she realizes what Harry is! She loves you, but you're running out of time!"

He stared at her back as she stomped off into the backyard, all of his rage gone and leaving him in a daze.  _She loves me?_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If everything goes according to plan, chapter 3 will be posted on Sunday or Monday!


	3. Love me or leave me, make your choice but believe me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Abba song 'I do, I do, I do, I do'
> 
> This one's dialogue heavy, but I guess it was about time they started talking ;)
> 
> This is just a little later than I anticipated because I wanted to finish all my drabbles for the drabble fest first!
> 
> The Jon and Ricky conversation was inspired by that one scene from Jerry Maguire

Jon was sitting on the back porch again when he heard the soft rush of the doors behind him gliding open. The sound was followed by a titter and the tiniest of footsteps, so he put out his cigarette and pretended not to have heard anything.

"Hello Uncle Jon!" Ricky's voice trilled right next to his ear.

Jon gasped, pretending to be surprised. "Hello Ricky!"

He stood beside him, a grin on his face as he clutched his plush dinosaur to the front of his striped pyjamas. His hair was Dickon's thin lusterless brown, but his blue eyes were so much like Sansa's it was almost painful to look at her son for too long.

"Shouldn't you go back to bed?" Jon asked the boy.

He nodded solemnly. "I probably should." Instead of doing so, he sat down on the same step as Jon, holding his gaze as if to challenge him to say anything about it.

"Don't worry," Jon told him. "I won't tell anyone."

"Can I play a game on your phone?" Ricky asked, picking up the device from the step where Jon had put it.

"I don't have any games on my phone."

He made a face and shoved his dinosaur into Jon's face. "Bran is a stegosaurus!"

"Is he now?" he chuckled.

He opened his mouth to confirm, but then got distracted by Jon's phone lighting up and starting to vibrate. He studied the image of Val appearing on the screen and offered the phone to Jon, who didn't take it.

"Shouldn't you pick up your phone?" the boy asked him.

"I probably should." He wasn't interested in hearing what his ex wanted from him though, and he sure as hell wasn't planning to have that conversation within earshot of a five-year-old.

They watched the phone ring until Val's picture disappeared from the screen.

"Don't worry," Ricky reassured him. "I won't tell anyone."

***

Feeding a small dozen of people every day was quickly becoming a fulltime job for Aunt Cat, so Sansa had decided to prepare dinner tonight and Jon had offered to help her. 

He sat at the kitchen table in the chair opposite her, peeling potatoes, while she chopped carrots. From time to time he threw her a glance or a cautious smile she answered with one of her own. She wished he'd smile more often. She liked the curve of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled when he did that.

She glanced up at him again and saw that he was staring at her. She expected him to avert his eyes, but he held her gaze.

"Sansa," he said, taking a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

He frowned at the potato in his hand. "Are you certain about marrying Harry?" 

"What?" she gasped, dumbfounded by his question.

He pursed his lips and muttered: "You heard me."

"That's none of your business!" she huffed. "Why would you even think to ask such a thing?"

He clenched his jaw and seemed to contemplate for a moment. "Arya told me a couple of things," he confessed.

She dropped her knife, fingers clutching the edge of the table. "She had no right!"

"She's your sister," he pointed out. "She cares about you!"

"She has a funny way of showing that!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Not really. You haven't answered the question."

"Of course I'm certain about Harry!" she exclaimed. "Are you sure about your pretty blonde girlfriend? You didn't even bring her here for my wedding!"

"What?" he asked, making a face. "I don't have a girlfriend."

She folded her arms over her chest. "Ricky saw a picture of her on your phone!"

His mouth popped open and he huffed out a laugh. "That was my ex, Val," he said. "She was calling me. That's why Ricky saw that picture."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "If she's your ex, why haven't you blocked her number?"

"Because," he shrugged. "Because I don't hate her? Because we're still friends?" His tone made her think he was questioning her intelligence.

"Friends," she hissed, glowering at him.

"Yes,  _friends._ " He pushed himself to his feet, bracing his hands on the table as he leaned over it, giving her an icy glare.

"You know what, Sansa?" he asked. "If you're so sure about Harry, maybe you should ask yourself why you're so bothered by the idea that I might have a girlfriend!"

He strode out of the kitchen, and Sansa turned around to stare after him, finding Jeyne watching her from where she's standing by the door with a concerned expression on her face.

*** 

Jon looked up when he heard Sansa coming down the stairs. She knew they were the only two people in the house right now, and he knew she was trying to avoid him by leaving the house. 

He wasn't planning to let her do that. He had a plan, a rather simple and reckless one perhaps, but he'd been cautious for too long, and he was running out of time.

She tried to move past him to get to the front door, keeping her eyes down.

"Sansa," he said.

"Jon," she acknowledged him.

"Look at me."

She sighed, defensively crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't have time for this. I need to go and pick up Ricky."

"It's four o'clock," he pointed out. "You told Dickon you'd be there around six."

"What do you want?" she snapped. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "We need to talk."

Her nostrils flared, but she was still avoiding looking at his face. "I don't have anything to say," she muttered.

"That's right," he said with a half-smile, giving the air a small kick with his foot. "You already told me everything I needed to know."

That got her attention. She glanced up at him, her blue eyes wide.

"Let me tell you something in return." He closed the distance between them and reached up to brush her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, holding his hand there.

He studied her face, eyes questioning and lips slightly parted. He wanted to savour this moment. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and she swallowed. He leaned in, and her breath fanned against his lips in short puffs. 

"I'm yours," he told her and pressed his lips to hers, soft and gentle at first, but his mouth quickly became more insistent. He'd dreamed about this. 

Then her lips were moving against his, and his heart almost burst with joy. When he put his free hand on her waist to pull her closer, she parted her lips in a sigh. He sucked on her bottom lip, flicking out his tongue and meeting hers.

"I want you to choose me," he panted into her mouth as she fisted her hands into the front of his shirt.

Her fingers caressed his beard and she whispered: "Jon."

Their kiss grew needier, teeth and tongues clashing in between little nips and pecks and sliding lips.

Out on the street, a car honked, and the magic of the moment was broken. Sansa took advantage by fleeing out the door, leaving Jon standing there in a daze. 

***

"Sansa, you look gorgeous!" Jeyne practically gasped. "Absolutely stunning!"

Sansa offered her an absentminded smile as sister-in-law started patting the pockets of her cardigan.

"There are tissues in my bag," she told Jeyne, who flashed her a guilty grin as she stifled a sob.

"I'm sorry, Sansa. It's the hormones! I hate this!"

Sansa looked at her reflection, finding it hard to focus on Jeyne. Her wedding dress was in fact absolutely stunning and utterly perfect. It wasn't the elaborate, poofy princess gown she'd dreamed of when she was younger, _thank the gods,_ it was better.

The bodice was covered in lace and it had a sweetheart neckline.The dress had a high waist and a column style skirt that softly hugged her curves, but dreamily floated around her when she moved. Yet she had trouble imagining herself walking down the aisle in it, and she couldn't even picture Harry's face as he stood there waiting for her.

Maybe the dress was too simple after all. Perhaps she could ask for a belt with some bling, or a hoop to make the skirt a bit fuller. She wrung her hands together and looked away from the mirror. With only two days until the wedding, she shouldn't be changing her mind about these things.

She returned to the fitting room to take the dress off. The seamstress told her they'd iron the skirt again and check for any loose threads and that her mother would be welcome to pick it up anytime the next day.

She thanked the older woman and the sales assistant in the shop's front room, and followed Jeyne out to head to the café for their brunch reservation. 

Sansa ordered a sweet latte and Jeyne a pot of chamomile tea and they went over some practical wedding details as they waited for their food. Their plates arrived, Sansa hardly noticed what was on it. She sat picking at her food as she tried to figure out what was wrong with her dress.

When she closed her eyes, she could see herself in it, twirling around with a bright smile on her face. She collided with a solid form, and felt a pair of strong arms being wrapped around her. She glanced up and looked into a pair of soft, dark eyes.

"Sansa, honey, are you even listening?"

She blinked, startled from her daydream, and found Jeyne staring at her, her fork suspended in mid-air.

"I'm so sorry, Jeyne," she said, looking her friend in the eyes. "I don't know what's come over me..."

"Are you feeling well?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just easily distracted, I guess," she tried to laugh away her odd behaviour.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little, I suppose," she confessed.

Jeyne took a bite of her pancakes and chewed slowly, her eyes never leaving her sister-in-law's face. "Sansa," she said eventually. "You can always talk to me. You know that, right?"

"Of course!"

She put her fork down and sipped her tea, waiting. "Now would be a good time."

Sansa stared at her plate. "A good time to talk?"

"About Jon," her friend clarified.

She shrugged."What about him?" 

"He's in love with you."

Sansa pulled her sleeves down over her hands, biting her lip.

"But you already knew that," Jeyne sighed, rolling her eyes. 

She looked down at her lap. "He kissed me."

"What? When?"

"Yesterday," she said, folding her hands.

"And?" her friend asked, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.

"I liked it," she confessed, pushing her fingers between her knees. "I kissed him back."

Jeyne's only response was: "Wow!"

Sansa knew the question was coming, but it still startled her. "Are you in love with him?" 

 _Of course not,_ she'd told herself the day before. She was just getting cold feet, which was perfectly normal, wasn't it?

"I don't know," she whispered, unable to meet Jeyne's eyes.

"I don't think that's true, Sansa. You know, it's worse to lie to yourself than it is to lie to me." She focused on her food for a couple of moments.

"I don't know what's in your heart, only you do, but I can tell you you have no business marrying Harry with the way you and Jon look at each other."

***

Jon had thought he'd be able to seek refuge in the Stark's kitchen this late at night. He'd hoped to hide in here and sit at the kitchen counter nursing a glass of scotch until he could make up his mind about what he was going to do the next day. Sansa had been acting as if nothing had happened between them, and he was far beyond being able to deal with that.

His plans were ruined when he heard someone descending the stairs and opening the door to the dining room. He squeezed his eyes shut as blinding light suddenly filled the room.

When his eyes had adjusted, he found Sansa standing frozen in the middle of the room.  _Great,_ he thought. _Can't you give me a couple more hours without me having to look at you, knowing I'm about to lose you forever?_

She pursed her lips and pointed to someplace vague behind him. "I just wanted to get a glass of water."

"It's your house," he told her. "You don't need my permission." He decided to ignore the flash of annoyance in her eyes.

She took her time retrieving a glass and filling it and he could hear her taking a breath and sighing heavily several times, as if she wanted to say or ask him something, but decided against it every single time.

Her bare feet padded across the kitchen floor until she paused right next to him. She inhaled loudly again, but her voice was quiet when she asked him: "Can I still count on you being there tomorrow?"

He looked up and stared at her until she turned around to meet his eyes. "Are you fucking serious, Sansa?"

Her mouth fell open and she put her glass down with a thud. "You promised!" she reminded him.

"I didn't know all the things I do right now," he muttered. 

She whirled around, but he caught her hand, gently tugging her back to him. He hopped off the stool and moved closer until their noses were almost touching. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, but he wouldn't let that distract him now.

"Sansa," he began, promising himself to stay calm. "I know you think I'm just jealous—

"You are," she bit back, glaring at him.

"Of course I am!" he snapped, panting heavily, running his thumb over the hand he's still holding to compose himself. "But that's not the point!"

"Then what is the point, Jon?"

"You're making a mistake!" Wasn't that obvious?

Finally she pulled her hand away. "Because I'm not choosing you?" There was venom in her tone.

 _Yes._ "No, the choice is not between me and him," he said slowly, through gritted teeth. "There's a third option, Sansa, possibly the best one."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in a defensive gesture. "Yeah, right! As if you believe that!"

"Maybe I do."  _Choose yourself,_ he wanted to tell her.

Her lips were pursed and her eyes kept avoiding his.

"You can just call it off," he said softly, gently squeezing her elbow.

She pulled away from his touch, throwing her arms up. "No, Jon! I really, really can't!"

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Give me love like never before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the wedding...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Ed Sheeran - Give me love
> 
> Enjoy!

Sansa was ready. She was in her dress, her hair and make-up were done, and Arya and Gendry were bound to arrive any minute now. 

She felt oddly disconnected from everything that was going on around her, as if she was watching the day unfold as a spectator rather than one of its main participants. 

Her mother was standing next to her, holding her hand as she smiled at Sansa's reflection in the mirror. "You look so beautiful," she said with a smile, but then her face turned pensive.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she told her, eyes still on their reflections. "But I was hoping you'd come to me first."

Sansa could hear the dissappointment in her voice.

"Tell me, Sansa, are you happy?"

She lowered her eyes, trying to escape her mother's scrutinizing look. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This was her wedding day, she _should_ be happy, but she only felt sad and a little sick to her stomach. Thinking about Harry just made her numb.

The uncomfortable feeling in her tummy wouldn't go away, and when she closed her eyes, she only saw one face. Two faces, really, but in her dreams, when she was safely wrapped up in a pair of strong, warm arms, they would often blur into one.

She glanced up at her mother and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I just miss daddy, so, so much."

She hated herself for the ghosts that passed through her mother's eyes for a moment, but then they were gone and she was hugging her. Her embrace couldn't calm the storm inside Sansa, but it made her feel a little stronger, more able to deal with all of this.

Was it too late to turn back? Was this a risk worth taking? Life had never rewarded her for doing something impulsive before, but maybe it was time to take a leap of faith. 

Sometimes it was too painful too look at Jon's face, and sometimes she was afraid it wasn't truly him she wanted, just the happiness she had known when she'd been a girl. How could she follow her heart, when it was still such a broken mess? 

"Sansa," her mother said softly. "It's okay to feel nervous today, and even a little scared. You're making one of the most important decisions of your life."

She nodded weakly.

"But I've never seen any bride look quite as miserable on her wedding day as you do ," Catelyn said bluntly, fussing with Sansa's hair and her necklace. "I'm sure you have your reasons for marrying Harry, and they probably seem important right now. But you have to ask yourself: are they the right ones? Don't make a choice you'll end up regretting."

***

Jon unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and stuffed his hands into his pockets before extracting them again and rubbing his beard, then scratching the back of his head.  _Gods,_ what the fuck was he even doing here?

He must be an idiot, or a masochist, probably both. He leaned against the wall behind him, tilting his head back. For years he'd suffered in silence, accepting he'd probably be pining for a woman who didn't love him back for the rest of his life.

This was worse. Whatever Sansa felt for him, he knew it could be enough. He loved her and cared about her. He knew her and respected her in a way Harry Hardyng never would. Perhaps he shouldn't have listened to Arya and that silly old hag on the train. He should have kept his mouth shut.

Hope was a dangerous thing, almost impossible to extinguish, so he had to be here. He had to see it, or he'd just keep wondering what she'd looked like today, whether she'd truly seemed happy, what the look in her eyes had been when she said "I do."

He went through three cigarettes in fifteen minutes while the last guests filed into the Sept, and then she's there. The Maserati Ghibli Gendry borrowed from his dad for today was slowly gliding up Torrhen's Square and Jon's eyes followed it as if in a dream. 

Aunt Cat looked regal as she exited from the car in a long navy blue gown, Ricky on her hand in his mini tux. Arya, wearing a dove grey jumpsuit,  is already on her feet, kicking Gendry's ankle so he'll open Sansa's door. 

Jon vaguely registered Bran and Jojen arriving in a second car, and Rickon helping Jeyne out of the backseat, but he really only had eyes for Sansa. She looked so lovely he was sure he was going to cry if he kept looking at her, and he hadn't cried in years, not since Uncle Ned died. 

She picked up her skirts and looked up, her eyes searching. The smile that lit up her face when she found him almost smashed his heart to pieces. People greeted him, but Jon hardly noticed, and then they were alone.

"You look radiant," he whispered.

He didn't think she could have looked even more beautiful, but when she smiled she did. "You're here," she said.

"Of course I am," he told her, as if her being surprised about that was silly or unexpected.

She pursed her lips. "I didn't think you'd come."

 _Neither did I._ "Sansa," he started saying, and something flickered in her eyes, an eager curiosity, perhaps even something resembling hope, but he can't keep fooling himself like this.

 _Please,_ he wanted to beg her.  _Please, don't do this, Sansa._ But he'd already done that, and it hadn't worked, so what else could he say? She wasn't married to Harry yet, but what could he still do to stop her from walking into that Sept to meet her groom at the altar?

She was waiting, her eyes still on his face, and for a little while longer, he let her. Finally he told her: "I don't want to be here." He ignored the flash of hurt in her eyes, the downward quirk of her lips. "And I haven't changed my mind. But I promised myself I would never abandon you again."

He thought her eyes were glistening, but he couldn't bear to look at her any longer, so he turned around and offered her his arm. She looped hers through it, and they entered the Sept.

It was a long walk, and Jon wished he could run down the aisle to wipe the stupid dimpled grin off Harry's face as he stood there waiting for a bride he didn't deserve. It would be quite the spectacle if he gave the groom a black eye. Or perhaps he should go for subtle. A quiet but unmistakable threat as he reluctantly released Sansa's arm.

Or he could wait until the Septon asked if there were any objections.  _These are my objections,_ he'd say.  _First of all that asshole doesn't deserve her. Secondly, I'm in love with her._ He'd turn to Harry then.  _And finally, she kissed me, not even three full days ago._

His selfish daydreams brought a spiteful grin to his face, but it fell as soon as he imagined Sansa's horror-struck expression if he were to do any of those things. 

He took another step and Sansa's grip on his arm tightened. He realized she was frozen in place. He tried to continue their path, gently tugging her along, but she wouldn't move.

His heart was already soaring, hoping that perhaps, she'd changed her mind after all, but he'd ignore it for now. Why was she making this even more difficult for him than it already was?

He reached across to cover her hand with his own and squeezed, swiping his thumb over the soft skin. "Sansa?" he asked softly. 

Her eyes were wide with shock or fear, and her bottom lip was trembling. He tried hard to keep his face blank, even as the voice inside his head was chanting:  _yes, choose me, Sansa, choose me!_

 _Why did you have to let it come this far, sweetheart?_ She was going to hate herself for doing it like this. His heart was hammering inside his chest, as if it was trying to burst out and leap into her arms, but he kept his gaze calm and steady. 

 _This is it, Snow,_ that greedy voice urged him on.  _It's what's best for her as well,_ it tried to placate him. It had to be her decision, but he could give her that last gentle nudge she needed, couldn't he?  _Fuck,_ this was selfish, but at the same time, it was also the right thing to do.

"You want to get out of here?" he asked her, as gently and indifferently as he could manage.

She blinked and nodded. "I do," she answered, and her voice was firm. 

Keeping his head down, he turned them around and made for the door of the Sept. He could hear the buzzing whispers and shocked gasps. After all, he was quite literally taking off with another man's bride, stealing her on her way to the altar. 

But none of that mattered to him, only she did. 

***

Jon had asked Sansa what she wanted to do and she'd told him she wanted to get as far away as possible. They'd driven all the way to White Harbour—Theon's car keys had still been in Jon's pocket— and they had parked the car near the beach. 

They were walking along the shore, and Sansa allowed the wind to unravel her pins and braids. Jon hadn't said a word in the car, quietly driving and leaving her alone with her thoughts. She loved him even more for it. 

She moved her shoes and the train of her dress to her other arm, and reached for his hand, twining their fingers together. There was surprise in his eyes as they met hers, so she squeezed his hand and offered him a smile.

"I know a coffee place that has amazing pies," she told him. "It's only a couple of blocks away."

He nodded and they left the beach to head into the little town. They both ordered coffee and got a lemon pie for Sansa and a slice of apple pie for Jon.

She licked some lemon custard from her fork and put it down to look at him. "Jon?" she said softly. When he looked up, she told him: "Thank you."

He chewed and swallowed a mouthful of apple pie. "For what?"

"For knowing my heart better than I did."

"I had help with that," he chuckled.

She continued:"For saving me from myself."

"You did that," he shrugged.

"You helped." She leaned back in her chair, ignoring the people who'd just walked in staring at her wedding attire. "I can't believe we did that."

She glanced up, and he met her eyes. "I still can't believe we did that, Jon!"

Two mouths curled into smiles and then they were both laughing, suddenly possessed by a strange and elated giddiness. More people stared at them, most of them looking curious, but there were also a couple of glares.

His hand was lying on the table, and Sansa covered it with her own. He flipped it over, so her fingers were resting in his warm palm, and his thumb caressed her knuckles. They finished their pies, holding hands.

When they walked out she took both of his hands in hers to pull him closer and leaned in to kiss him, finally giving in to what her heart had been trying to tell her all along.

"I choose you," she whispered against his lips.

He framed her face in his hands. "That's not a choice you have to make today," he told her, his eyes somehow both intense and soft. "Take your time."

"I don't need time. I'm taking a leap of faith." She kissed him again, melting into his embrace. 

"What do you think everybody else is doing right now?" she murmured into his neck after a while.

"Your mother is a practical woman," he shrugged, and she could feel the rumble of his voice where she was pressed against his chest. "And I'm sure your brothers and sister insisted on going through with the reception and the party."

"I'm ready to get out of this dress," she told him. "But I don't want to go home yet." She wanted it to be just the two of them for a little while longer, before they had to deal with the rest of the world and the consequences of her decision.

"We could find a clothing store," Jon suggested. "Get you something more comfortable."

She shook her head. "My suitcase is at the hotel. The suite has already been paid for."

He studied her face for a moment and nodded. 

***

"Hardyng," Jon said with a straight face when the receptionist asked for the name on their reservation. Sansa's barely contained giggle came out in a snort. The receptionist shot her a look, but maintained her professional smile.

"I'll have the key ready for you in a minute," she told them. "You can wait over there," she added, pointing to the plush seats in the lobby. 

It took considerably longer than a minute, and Jon realized why when they entered the room. The entire suite was lit with dozens of candles, and there was an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne on the table. Next to it was a gift basket.

From a closer view, he could see that it was filled with a box of chocolates, a bowl of strawberries and a vial of massage oil. Red rose petals were scattered all over the floor in a trail leading to the bedroom.

He poured out two glasses of champagne and Sansa raised her glass. "To finally making the right decision."

After a while, she disappeared into the bathroom to change, and when she returned, Jon's jaw dropped.

She was wearing a frilly blue chemise and matching lace panties, her garter the only thing left from her wedding attire. The room had suddenly grown very hot, and he was ready to pounce on her, but then he remembered this was supposed to be her wedding night.

She must have caught him glowering, as her slightly shy but seductive smile slipped from her face. "You don't like it?" she asked.

He closed the distance between them, gathering her in his arms and growled:"I do, I was just imagining  _him_ seeing you like this."

She draped her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. "I was thinking about you when I bought this," she said, biting her lip.

A low whine escaped from his mouth as he kissed her, and just like all those years ago, their hands started roaming, rediscovering each other's bodies. 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, when they parted for air. "We don't have to rush things."

"We've wasted enough time," she answered him. "Take me to bed, Jon."

He had always been bad at refusing her, so he lifted her up to carry her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, amidst a splattering of even more rose petals.

He took his time kissing her, caressing her, just holding her, and then they made love, more tenderly and less desperately than the previous times.

After, she was leaning back against the pillows, and they were sharing the strawberries. He put one between her invitingly open lips and braced himself over her body to bite away half of it, so his lips could reach hers again.

She nipped at his bottom lip and slipped out from under his body, making him fall back onto the mattress, as he groaned in protest.

"Come back here," he growled.

She bent over to pick something up from the floor, tempting him to leap off the bed and pull her hips back into his, but she returned quickly enough.

She straddled him and took his arm, tying his wrist to the bedframe with her garter. He couldn't say he was particularly bothered by that, but she _was_ making him curious.

"What are you doing?" he wondered aloud.

"Just making sure you can't run away this time," she answered with a grin.

He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her down, and swallowed her surprised squeal with a loving kiss. "I'm not going anywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos!
> 
> Next up will be a one-shot in the 'More to love' universe and a sequel to 'Greyjoy is a bastard'


End file.
